


almahtum

by Valeks_princess



Series: The Mummy Drabbles [1]
Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Returns (2001), The Mummy Series
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Minor Angst, Multi, minor cultural/religious guilt, start of poly relationship, twosome becomes threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 20:03:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17689982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeks_princess/pseuds/Valeks_princess
Summary: After the Creature's defeat neither Rick nor Evie can stomach the overwhelming crowds of Cairo, somehow ending up back in the desert alongside Ardeth Bay; what they find in the scorched sands alongside the Medjai is inevitable really.





	almahtum

 

When the British Museum rejected her application of employment for the third time Evelyn would never have thought it would lead to this– trekking across the desert in the company of an ex-legionnaire and a warrior of sacred charge. When she received letters of acceptance from museums in both France and Cairo, lower standards you know, and decided that although she had taken French as a girl her Arabic was a damn sight better, she never could have anticipated the awakening of a thirst for adventure, nor finding two men who would indulge her so thoroughly. When she first met Rick she had no idea she would come to love him so fiercely, and as for Ardeth, well– that had been a bit more gradual still.  

 

* * *

 

The sand shifted underfoot, biting heat searing into the soles of Evie’s bare feet as she strolled down to the edge of the water, sensible skirt and tie traded in for the more appropriate clothes of the desert, better suited to the sand and hard days travel. Rick was ahead of her, already divested of his shirt and breeches, diving off the stone ledge and into the deep pool with a whoop. The woman chuckled to herself as she approached, sliding the takatkat off her shoulders, revealing pale skin to the shaded light of the oasis grotto Ardeth had led them to. The woman– not Medjai and yet a protector all the same, was clad in just a thin undershirt, thankfully of dark material. It would have scandalised London, yet here she was as free as the desert people her mother had belonged to. She had the soul of the arid wilderness she loved as fiercely as Ardeth himself did, and was damn improper with everyone, just moreso with the two of them. The Medjai’s eyes followed her, shielded from the harsh glare of the sun by the dark cloth of his tagelmust, khol-rimmed, fixated. He knew he should retreat, back away further into the cluster of trees and give the couple their privacy, and yet–

And yet there could be no harm surely, in him telling them he was going to begin setting up the night’s camp, in him getting just a little bit closer to the captivating duo that had so enchanted him, no matter how improper. Ardeth took a step forward, out of the foliage, and Evie spotted him instantly, waving him over. He darted a quick look in Rick’s direction, mouth going dry, and the man was actually smiling, so he approached, sand crunching under his boots.

“Come on in”

“Evelyn-”

“Evie” she cut him off firmly, and Ardeth shook his head wryly, the corner of his lips quirking up. He knew from experience how futile it was to argue with the woman, so he subsided, seating himself on the edge of the pool to tug off his boots and outer tunic, feeling almost defiant as he left himself clothed in his akarbey, stepping into the pool to join the couple.

Rick watched as Ardeth de-robed, stepping into the water in just a pair of loose fitting pants. The liquid clung to him, gluing the dark fabric to his glistening, copper skin. Rick felt his heart begin to race and had to swallow the flood of saliva suddenly pooling in his mouth. The Medjai was was most definitely attractive, rugged and fierce, with a brutal sense of loyalty the American raised in a Cairo orphanage couldn’t help but be drawn to. His gaze traced the hard planes of Ardeth’s chest, lingering on scars and tattoos alike, breath hitching as Ardeth turned, shoulders rippling, dark eyes captivating. The trio swam, circling each other, washing off the heat and dust of the day’s ride in the cool water, ignoring the simmering undercurrent of desire and arousal hanging above their heads, watching as the sun began its descent to meet the horizon, bathing the world in elongated shadows, night rising up to envelop the hidden oasis the trio had taken refuge in.

 

* * *

 

They came together over the fire that night, feasted on salted meats and taguella, the boisterous revelry of their conversation echoing within the confines of their temporary camp. Rick smiled, glad to be in the company of the two people he trusted most in the world, relaxed in their presence, in the thick smog of comradery hanging in the air, as dense as the unnatural clouds fouling Cairo streets. They relaxed like that, reclining after their meal, Evie moving closer to the flames’ heat to dry her hair. Rick smirking as he watched her struggle to tame the wild mass of curls. 

“Oh bother” the woman exclaimed finally, irritated, throwing down her brush, face twisted into a scowl, abandoning her valiant efforts against the thoroughly knotted tangle that had become her hair. Both men laughed at her misfortune, subsiding under her venomous glare. Rick averted his eyes hurriedly, but Ardeth stepped forward, taking the brush from her hand. It came easily, her fingers suddenly limp.

“Here, let me”. He said in that velvet, sultry accent; Evie helpless to protest as the warrior settled himself behind her, pulling her curls into his rough hands.

His fingers carded through her hair, separating the damp strands, exposing them to the heat of the fire crackling before them, wavering light casting severe angles across the planes of Ardeth’s chiseled face. Evie swallowed, averting her eyes, getting lost in the sensation tingling at the base of her spine. She tipped her head back, exposing the creamy line of her throat, basking in the feeling of his attentions, electricity shooting across her scalp, making the hair on her arms rise as gooseflesh erupted across her skin. Her mind felt heady, caught in the fog of the Medjai’s masculine scent, imagining those rough calloused hands on her skin. 

Ardeth lost himself in the repetitive motion of soothing the silken curls, mind clouded by the floret scent wafting up from her hair, encircling him. Ardeth had to remind himself of Rick beside them, and that the both of them deserved better than this. That thought sobered him, and the Medjai abated, tightening his grip on sanity as he parted Evelyn’s hair into three, twining her curls into a simple braid, drawing her dark locks back from her face.

 

* * *

 

Ardeth was almost asleep when soft sounds broke the silence of the night, stirring him to wakefulness. It took him but moments to realise what was going on, and his hand stilled where he was reaching for his sword. He subsided back down into his bedding, trying to ignore the hushed moans and slick sounds emanating from the other tent. It was surprising that this had never been an issue before, especially considering how much time the trio spent travelling in the desert without the sobering presence of Carnahan or other members of the Medjai. Ardeth knew he should have given the couple their privacy in the water today, instead they had been pent up, waiting until they thought he was asleep, until they thought they had their privacy. The warrior was drawn back from his thoughts by a feminine shriek, petering off into a wanton moan. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining just what the two were doing to each other, Evie’s lithe hands on Rick’s muscular form, Rick’s calloused grip on Evelyn’s pale skin. Ardeth realised with no small amount of horror that he was hard, knees spread and breathing ragged, member leaking against his stomach, hips involuntarily rocking up into empty air.

Ardeth forced his hands into fists, utilising all his training to keep himself himself from striding from his own tent and into the neighbouring one, from joining the couple, bodies coming together, touching, claiming. He bit into his lip, hard, tasting blood, corded muscles of his forearms tense as he fought to keep from working over his own flesh. He knew the ruling of the sacred Hadith as well as any, knew that if he gave in it would be permissible if only to prevent greater sin. His tribe was more lax than other peoples, unburdened by their sacred purpose– they had far more important matters as their focus than the morality of men finding stress relief together in the depths of the desert– but another’s partner was a different matter entirely. It didn’t matter that Ardeth had eyes for them both, had done since before they had chosen each other, that only doubled his offence. The Medjai had great tolerance for relationships other than the rule, but he was not part of their relationship, and so his desire was sinful, _haram_ lust that must be locked away for he knew better than to assume it could be erased.

He could hear the soft sounds of his friends’ coupling clearly over the dull night wind, noise searing itself into his brain. He kept his hands by his sides, fisted in his bedroll. He would not touch himself, would not defile his friendship with his _dire shaqiq_ in this way. He gritted his teeth, shuddering as their muted groans and sounds of pleasure crescendoed, reaching a peak that tumbled over the darkened camp. Ardeth willed himself to sleep, still unbearably hard, the sound of the couple's pleasure refusing to fade from his ears, the unwanted images that had been conjured still burning vibrantly behind his eyes. The Medjai forced himself to breathe evenly, not trusting himself to unclench his fists, keeping himself from transgressing by supreme force of will. Allah help him.

In the end Ardeth did sleep, but it was a ragged, wrung out thing, punctuated by images and sensations that burned alongside the shame in his gut. In the morning he woke to find his skin crusted with seed spent during the night, chest damp and sweat-slicked in a way that had nothing to do with the desert heat. He devoted an extra two units of morning prayer to seeking absolution.

 

* * *

 

The sand shone golden under the constant, overbearing presence of celestial fire looming over the trio easily seated on their mounts as they trekked the breadth of the desert, heading back to the Medjai camp, sated with the knowledge that the other artefacts the Guardians protected remained secure and undisturbed. Ardeth kept some distance between himself and the couple, barely able to admit even in the safety of his own mind that he didn’t trust himself around the temptation, that his body was on edge, riled with longing, and he didn’t want risk revealing the _haram_ desires buried deep within his heart. So he rode ahead, always cresting another ridge, unease and guilt gnawing at his spine, eroding through his gut to sour his thoughts, twisting them as Bedouin poison pollutes a well. The warrior was so lost in thought, in striving for the deliberate absence of any particular focus but that on the melting sand passing beneath them, that he failed to notice Evie surge behind him, pulling her mount up alongside his own, expression such a stony facade of resolve that he didn’t bother trying to pull away. He knew as well as Rick or Carnahan or any of his own warriors who had previously accompanied them that Evelyn Carnahan was indominable when set upon a course of action. He watched her astride her mount, seat easy and self-assured, skin exposed between the folds of her blue cloth akhebay glowing underneath the sun’s gaze, thriving under the unforgiving heat as only those of desert blood could. Her hair, still braided but messy, half collapsed, sprawled about her head, shining in the fierce rays, and Ardeth swallowed harshly, lips suddenly bone-dry as he realised how close she was, how easily he could just– 

“Ardeth” she said, voice almost hesitant, wavering, uncertain. The man sighed, but would never ignore any Guardian Tamajaq.

“Yes Evelyn?”. She glared, solid enough for that, and he quickly amended the statement, the corners of his lips quirking up in spite of himself. Damn this woman.

“I wanted to ask you about- well- I’ve been having these dreams and-”. Ardeth tried to focus on her words but he was distracted, eyes fixated on her face, her pink lips; unable to keep from envisioning how close she was, how easy it would be to reach out a hand and encircle her head, how he could tug her closer, guide her lips to meet his. But no, Evelyn was a shield-brother in her own right first and foremost, she deserved his utmost respect, and she deserved him to listen to her when she came to him with her concerns. The leader of men straightened, forcing himself to regard her as any other Guardian. “Well I’ve been a lot less skeptical of the whole hokum thing after the Creature’s rise and- Ardeth do you believe in reincarnation?” She blurted finally. He just blinked, taken aback. The Medjai took a minute, thinking, impassive as he chewed over his response.

“My people teach that souls can never truly be destroyed, and that the _ka_ of some– those with a vital duty– may be born again in more than one lifetime, re-enacting the same patterns over and over in an eternal metaphysical cycle until they have vanquished the evil they were born to oppose. It has been prophesied that there will arise a sacred warrior of Allah destined to defeat the risen Scorpion King, we do not know how, or where, but we have faith. Does this answer your question?”. She nodded, brows drawn tight and face creased. He watched as she gnawed on her lip, and then parted those soft, tempting lips to speak.

“I’ve been having these dreams of ancient times. I estimate them to be set approximately during the nineteenth dynasty based off the cartouche of Seti I on the– and, well- in these dreams I am a warrior like you. Ardeth I think that, if I had to, I could fight passably well and that should be impossible, but we’ve made quite a habit out of doing the impossible. If- if at all possible I would like to try it, to see if these dreams are something more than heatstroke and madness– but regardless I think it would be a good skill to know. We _do_ keep finding ourselves in mortal peril, and you and Rick can’t always be around to save me”.  She was well and truly rambling now, but Ardeth found himself not minding in the least. It was an intriguing idea, and would explain much. He would think more on it later, but for now–

“I will train you”. He said. It would be easy to give her with the rudimentary skills to defend herself, he should have thought to do so long before now. “Many women of the tribe are capable warriors in their own right, you can train with them when we return”.

 

* * *

 

That night they camped under the stars, distance coiling between the trio, edging them apart, unease curling in their guts at the fission of discontent marring their camp. They continued going through the motions, setting up tents side by side, cooking and eating together around the fire, all stubborn enough to ignore the unpleasant undercurrents. And then, when they were loose and relaxed on atai laced with alcohol, their bodies pressed against each other in the deep, shifting shadows cast high by the flickering firelight, limbs tangled and skin flushed– then, twined together, they eyed each other with heavy gazes, night air too cool on heated skin, desert sky brimming with expectation.

 

And Rick– who had grown up on the streets, spent his teen years scrapping behind taverns and in and out of war-camps, who had lied about his age and joined up with the French Foreign Legion, been deployed through some of the worst havens of drunken debauchery the Middle East in war-time had to offer– Rick who knew the touch of a man, in that secret, illicit way so similar and yet totally opposite from the tender mercies of a woman, watched Ardeth with appraising eyes.

And Ardeth– who had been bred for the secrets of the desert, for the life of a nomad, a leader, who knew the late night, fire-lit visage of men sating themselves on each other, drunk on the desert air, on adrenalin, on the thrill and exhaustion of a well fought battle– Ardeth’s eyes, dark and khol-lined, followed Rick’s muscular form, his body honed– no less that of a warrior than any of Ardeth’s own men.

And Evie– Evelyn Carnahan of good-fashioned English stock thank you very much, with the blood of the Nile and a sense for adventure simmering in her veins, freed by the desert from the constraints of high society, brought to life by the sands of Egypt, watched, aware as the three of them circled each other, touching, testing, friction bubbling to a head. The eruption was imminent, yet they came together with no more fuss than a camel sliding down to kneel in hot sand, tired after a long journey, a simple fact of life.

 

It was dark, the cool air edging in to nip at exposed skin, flush from the mix of mulled wine and tea, three bodies relaxed in proximity to the protection of their fire. The three were alone amongst the desert sands, listening distantly as the cries of far-off jackals drifting across the dunes to eddy around the blustering, tumultuous conversation. Evie and Rick were caught up in each other, intertwined, a laughing, raucous pair. Ardeth’s dark eyes looked away, unable to bear witness to the supernova that was the couple, so bright and full of life, drunk on the desert as Ardeth himself was, free in this empty place. He was inextricably drawn to them, even as their over-familiarity burned at him, acid and bitterness eroding the stone that was the Medjai. They were outsiders, were not born of the desert, and they would leave for the comforts of their towns and cities eventually, where Ardeth had no place. The loss would be no easier to bear now– after weeks of journeying in their company, seeking forgotten ruins that held no draw for Ardeth or Rick beyond the glow of their companions, soothing the elder’s fears of the discovery of other hidden artifacts– than if the trio had cut contact after the Creature’s defeat.

But then Evie– impetuous, bold, wonderful Evie– was reaching out, eyes fluttering in the throes of passion as Rick grasped her by the waist, solid fingers digging into the bare flesh of her exposed waist, calluses smoothing over pale milky-white skin glistening in the firelight, left hand sliding lower, slipping underneath her skirt– Ardeth turned away, until Evie’s grasping hand found his arm, and pulled him closer. He fell into them, the trio collapsing into a tangle of limbs and skin and pleasure, cries echoing over the sand, intertwined together. It was like a dam had broken, and their dynamic swelled to encompass Ardeth as if he had always been a part of it– fated, drawn together by the life-blood of desert that flowed through all their veins, hearts, bodies and minds tied together in this life and all others.


End file.
